


wait a little longer, we'll be going home soon

by silentmoons



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mindless Fluff, Slice of Life, This is a repost!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:47:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23941813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentmoons/pseuds/silentmoons
Summary: It's one of those nights between schedules where filming has wrapped up so late Jinyoung doesn't really know what to do with himself.
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung
Comments: 4
Kudos: 102





	wait a little longer, we'll be going home soon

**Author's Note:**

> This was written and posted back in July!
> 
> Apparently I don't have the file with the real ending anymore ;_;

It's one of those nights between schedules where filming has wrapped up so late Jinyoung doesn't really know what to do with himself.

Cold enough for them to have a snowfall in the middle of January, the kind that lasts a while but won't stick for long, he is aware that there's a speckle of snowflakes powdering his hair and sticking to his lashes as he climbs into the warmth of the awaiting black van. He's frazzled to the point of verging on numbness, body still partially running on the remains of all the coffee and energy drinks he consumed against better judgement. His vision is blurry around the edges, slightly unfocused, and it's strenuous to keep up as he struggles with his phone in the darkness of the car, glimmering lights passing fast through the tinted windows. There are several unread messages on the chaotic GOT7 group chat; messages he's left on read from friends and coworkers; an unanswered video call from his mother. His thumbs automatically find his thread of private texts with Jaebeom. He types, _Can I come over?_

He doesn't send it. Jaebeom is probably asleep already, his assemble of cats piled up around him, on top of him. Jinyoung can see it in his mind's eye: Jaebeom passed out in bed, mouth open, surrounded by cats, by pillows, by favourite plush toys. The image is so clear in his head, so cosy and comfy and snuggly it makes his heart ache, tear a little, just a crack. It's been such a heavy thing to drag around lately, this longing for alone, quiet moments with Jaebeom, this longing _for_ Jaebeom. Jinyoung misses him terribly, misses him everywhere in his body, misses him even in the depths of his bones.

Maybe it's a side effect of not living together anymore. Like a codependency of sorts—their entire group suffers from it in their own unhealthy ways, though it's different with the two of them, it has always been different with the two of them. It goes deeper. It has grown roots into Jinyoung and has tangled itself with his blood vessels, a constant simmer underneath his skin. Jaebeom has known him the longest. Jinyoung has known Jaebeom the longest. He's stubbornly possessive of that.

He considers stopping by a convenience store and buying alcohol, but the idea of pallid artificial blue lights after a day of shooting hurts his eyes. That's how, in the end, he's standing outside Jaebeom's door, and then he's pushing the buttons for the front door password, and then he's hearing a faint click as the door shuts behind him and the light in the foyer comes alive.

Jinyoung rushes to toe off his sneakers so he can step into the living room and the light can turn off again, because Jaebeom isn't in bed. He's dozing on the couch, the muted TV flickering colours on his face. One of the youngest cats runs to him, meows earnestly, and Jinyoung bends down to appease it with a pat on the head and a soft _hello, baby._

He treads carefully towards the couch, followed by the cat. Takes off his scarf, his coat—Jaebeom is going to complain about it later, about the mess on his floor, but right now Jinyoung is not thinking about the earful he's bound to get eventually. He leans close to Jaebeom's lips, wants to press a kiss to the little mole on Jaebeom's nose like the lovesick fool that he is, but nuzzles his cheek instead.

"I know you're awake, old man," Jinyoung whispers, very mellow and very giggly and very much in love. "You're a light sleeper if I've ever seen one."

Jaebeom huffs out a sound that can either be an exasperated sigh or a small chortle that translates into embarrassment. "Jinyoungah," he whispers back, eyes closed, finds the hem of Jinyoung's sweater to tug at it and pull him in. "You're here. I was dreaming about you."

"Liar," he says, fighting a smile. "Sorry I didn't call."

"Your hands are cold," Jaebeom complains in lieu of a proper reply. He holds both of Jinyoung's hands in his, hides them under his tattered hoodie, the ugly old one he refuses to get rid of, and places their joined hands right over his heart. "It's okay. I've missed you. I miss you."

Jinyoung hums. Jaebeom's couch is large, rommy, yet he edges closer, closer, closest to Jaebeom, so there's essentially no space left between them. He bumps his nose against Jaebeom's one, two, three times, and grins at Jaebeom's chuckle.

"Jinyoungie," Jaebeom teases in his throaty, sleepy voice. "Did you come all this way to deny me a kiss?"

Jinyoung bumps their noses together once more for good measure, before meeting Jaebeom halfway and kissing him on the mouth. It's nothing but sweet at first, and slow, and full of gasping into each other's mouths at the unexpected gentleness. They're not new to this unabashed intimacy—it doesn't mean it isn't still spine-tingling and electrifying whenever Jaebeom moves his hand to grabs his butt, his thigh; angles his head better so he can suck on his tongue gently, drag his teeth over his lower lip not so gently.

At least three of Jaebeom's five cats are on his bed by the time he turns off the TV and leads Jinyoung to his bedroom. He coos at them, utters the softest promises of food and cuddles as he carries them to the hall so he can close the door to give himself and Jinyoung a sense of privacy.

The curtains are drawn here, the modern-looking lampshade on the bedside table beaming a dim yellow light. The haziness of it, warm and secure and homely, is making Jinyoung significant drowsy, as the exhaustion of another long day finally starts settling into his achy bones and sore muscles. He watches Jaebeom lie belly down and hug a pillow, watching him back with heavy eyes.

"I showered before leaving the set," Jinyoung challenges petulantly. Jaebeom half shrugs, hugging the pillow tighter, and Jinyoung breathes out a faux-annoyed noise, borrowing a pair of sweatpants and a big worn-out sweater. It smells like Jaebeom's familiar fabric softener, and Jinyoung is only trying to vex him a little, of course, so he sniffs loudly and sits heavily on the mattress. "Have you fallen asleep on me, old man?"

"You gotta stop calling me that, it hurts my ego," mumbles Jaebeom. A hint of laughter and fondness mollifies his aggravating tone. Jinyoung squirms helplessly—he lifts Jaebeom's hoodie and plants a tender kiss to his back, lips pressing down over and over, up his spine, down again, each time uncovering more skin. Jaebeom groans, "Jinyoungie."

"Is your back giving you trouble again? Do you need a massage?"

"No—just—come here."


End file.
